A Warrior's Hymnal
by shelter
Summary: An anthology of Claymore-inspired poetry about events, characters & situations from Clare's rescue by Teresa to the Fall of Pieta. Completed 6 June, with 6 pieces. Comments/ criticism appreciated.
1. Intro: Lament for the Fall of Pieta

**A WARRIOR'S HYMNAL**

**An Anthology of Claymore-inspired Poetry**

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"_All a poet can do today is warn_" - Wilfred Owen (1893-1918)

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**INTRODUCTION:**

_Before I started writing Claymore fanfiction, I started writing Claymore poetry, so technically these rather amateurish pieces were written when I was really interested in Claymore as a fandom. And because I started writing poetry before prose, I feel that I need to close an older chapter of my own life of writing by posting these up on a more public domain and (most of all) to contribute to the ever-expanding collection of Claymore fanfiction._

_All these were originally posted from Dec 2007 to June 2008 on Valduran's Claymore Project's site & Animesuki Forums._

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**Lament for the Fall of Pieta**

**Context:** Manga chapters 61, 66-67 (Post-Invasion of Pieta)

**Inspiration:** Rupert Brooke's Peace, Wilfred Owen's Anthem for Doomed Youth, Dylan Thomas' After the Funeral

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_Will not speak for us, O young men of Pieta?  
Would you not honour our heads with thy failing lips?  
From whence we saw thy faces, muted with dread at  
the sight of us – now they curse us from the crypt.  
Regard thou the stammering chords of thy tongues!  
Scattered shards scrape remains of thy unfinished graves –  
the perished whose souls sleep with the ruins –  
and whose arms reach for us: to deliver Death's friendly embrace._

_Will you not weep for us, O daughters of Pieta?  
Would you purify our bodies with thy tears?  
Till you have washed the wounds from our faces,  
and sanctified our sacrifices in thy prayers.  
Yet lower thy gaze still! Think not yet, to sweeten  
our scars with mourning and bitter perfumes;  
for we will not return to our rest this evening:  
the beasts of this night have cast us into disrepute._

_Fall, fall on us, O mountains of Alphonse!  
Veil our eyes from those slain, those strewn as fowl;  
silence the monstrous mockery of our foes: over our  
dead and dying they scorn, slur, debase, defile.  
Protect these humble headstones, O hills, lest stronger  
storms bury under neglect these final deeds;  
and when the winds do fail to blow,  
may gentle seasons enshrine them into memory._

_And echo our sorrow beyond these blood-drowned plains,  
in the wake of thy shadow, O evening star.  
For the acts of many, the lives of these few lights.  
keep in thy bosom, O heavens – burn forever, faint stars this night._

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NOTES: Edited on 28 Feb 2009.

When I was first in my early years, trying out writing, I seemed to develop an interest for the classical poetic forms of laments and requiems. So when I first posted this up on Animesuki, a lot of people called it "really depressing". I agree with them. But I felt that only a lament could be good enough for some of the more painful moments in Claymore. This poem helped me to get in the right mind to write Recursion.


	2. Sonnet of the Black Card

**Sonnet of the Black Card**

**Context**: Manga, chapter 4.

**Inspiration**: Sieg-sama's fanfic Drink it Down, Christina Rossetti's Remember me when I am Gone Away

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_  
Beloved sister, when this scripture shall force its way to your hand,  
neither dismay, hesitate, distress, grieve or mourn;  
do not thirst for the bitter shadow of me when I am gone,  
when you can drink so deeply of your life – and be content.  
Only remember, my sister, not this receding shell of a ghost,  
given to oblivion, condemned to decay for a cause depraved,  
but remember me for I was flesh, frail, a friend – made  
human with God's divine art – and thus, now He paints my final stroke.  
_

_And hasten now. Suffer me not to linger under this weight  
I alone cannot bear. For it plunders me of my soul:  
its carnal calling, its unclean loitering lust mutilates  
me, descending into the stone silence of hells unknown.  
Only redeem me: let me look upon the flush of your faithful face,  
then embrace me, sister, with the blessing of your blade._

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(Edited: 18 Feb 2008)

(2nd Edit: 30 Dec 2009)


	3. Miria's Prayer

**Miria's Prayer**

**Context:** Anime, Episode 20.

**Inspiration: **An extremely boring New Media Lecture

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"_There's no God to pray to in the first place_." – **Miria **(Anime, Episode 20)

_If, if, if –  
if you really do exist, if you really wait for me  
above this heavenless sky,  
above this hell-bound battleground –  
then hear me!  
How much –  
how much more of my blood would you  
have me offer, God?_

_God – god  
is that word so vain, so profane that it  
forces belief?  
For I know, that no one – nobody – nothing –  
no power will save us, my warriors,  
from fate –  
save our own blades and hands.  
No one – nobody – nothing – no power will  
redeem, rescue, recourse._

_But, God, how miserable hope is:  
an unsheathed fear, an awakened pain,  
everything, everything –  
God, god –  
after this is over, when I walk out from here and into the world beyond:  
judge me. Judge those who will walk after me.  
Put on God, God –_

_For I will not lower my sword  
until you do. _

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**NOTES:** Edited 18 Feb 2008, 2nd edit on 31 Dec 2009.

Shortly after I watched the Episode 20 of the Anime, I think I probably asked the same question as Miria. But I came to a different conclusion. Some of my friends who watched Claymore told me Miria's question was the key turning point in the story for them.


	4. Last Supper

**Last Supper**

**Context:** Manga, chapter 66

**Inspiration:** Good Friday service at church.

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_  
When the appointed hour had come  
they gathered together in the upper floor,  
making ready the passing over into night.  
And they sat: not just the twelve, but twenty-four,_

_neither apostle or apostate. And their leader –  
who would have it that no one would die – said:  
"Here I dine with you before we all suffer."  
But she did not eat or break bread._

_No symbol for remembrance, just: "Sorry, I know, I'm  
sacrificing many so only a few will survive."  
But she did not utter a prayer,  
she did not pour, taste or pass the wine._

_No need for bread to give thanks for – just the  
shadow of many wrecked bodies to come.  
No wine to relieve their sorrows – only  
definite shedding of innocent blood._

_Soon they would climb their Golgotha:  
the darkest, yet the only path they could take.  
No need for Judas to dip his hand with them  
into the dish – for they had already been betrayed._

_And the leader looked upon these faces,  
a room untouched by even the smallest hope.  
No heavenly kingdom loomed near,  
but only this – and she spoke:_

_"This is your pill. Take half, eat and  
suppress your will. It should be all you need.  
Now, remember what we need to do and,  
God willing, through this death, we might find a way to live."_

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(Written: 23 Mar 2008, Edited: 01 June 2010).


	5. 2 Sonnets

**2 Sonnets**

**Context:** Manga, chapters 12-42, 41

**Inspiration:** T.M Kettle's To My Daughter Betty, William Shakespeare's Sonnet 1, Wilfred Owen's Hospital Barge at Cerisy

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**2 Sonnets**

**I**  
_Warrior Saint, were I strong enough to take your steps,  
I would pour praises there with all my self, then deify  
all your words – your faint smiles by firelight –  
the saving grace you – an angel – could only have.  
Goddess of Love! Only a thousand prayers in your name  
still cannot be blessed enough than the grasp of your hand:  
when you closed them around nothingness, willfully, and then  
pulled out from there, me, one not meant to be saved._

_Your last memory, a presence failing, in your shadow blooms  
a sinless shade that coaxes me;  
were not your face enshrined in stone, or the eternal truth  
of your quiet hands clasped in devotional peace,  
then would your graces see far beyond where Promise and Hope loom,  
where your mortal sister watches, sharing your supplications equally.  
_

**II**  
_And so I have seen the form of peace that breaks  
from here, casting my gaze out the opposite way:  
the bleak brink of a murder's face, in a monster's wake,  
silence craves from me a sword – avenge you! Who was slain.  
I, too, lower and press my hands in prayer:  
earnest petitions strangled with a lonely breath  
that I would rise to avenge by my right hand, and not falter  
when your murderer's sneer threatens me with death._

_But though your eyes anchor me deep with their hopes,  
promises spill, surfacing on the wrecks of shattered goals,  
washed by waves of weakness, and my hands turn cold  
with waiting, till with borrowed fingers I grope  
skywards into the ocean deep with fearsome unknowns.  
Still the memory of you guides, succours me to onward go._

_

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Edited: 1 June 2010_  
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	6. Last Epistle of Galatea

**Last Epistle of Galatea**

**Context: **Manga Chapter 74 ("One Woman's Prayer")  
**Inspiration: **Psalm 22

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_My life did not begin on a bed of hay. No one  
christened me at birth:  
a goddess' name they gave to me.  
Then they who loved me sold me  
for less than 30 pieces of silver;_

_on a day darker than Golgotha:  
they who loved me passed me on with a Judas' kiss:  
a death wish – for what wrong did I commit?_

_Such is the price of blood, they say, for you-  
are-cursed, and shall perish in the hell fire –  
these words slithered from tongues both yoma and human.  
Yet the monster I slay,  
and man's covenant I obey._

_A demon for a demon, they say (Just like  
an eye for an eye?). A sword, a symbol, a silver eye:  
seeing sisters blinking for salvation.  
But who ordained me with such heavenly vision:  
whose judgment, whose law, whose doctrine?  
The wriggling of many lives like mine,  
bound to the hooded man's altar,  
the sacrifice of false religion, under the spell of awakening._

_So you are hell-bound, witch, they say, for you are a sinner  
(but what if no one taught me to sin?).  
Then you are an infidel, heathen, they claim.  
Daughter of bastards, defiled –  
And the claim for penance meets a chastening:  
no – remember – there is no god but your eye and sword, Claymore,  
the hooded man says,  
and which god hears the whines of monsters anyway._

_Blind me from your promises and let me turn  
apostate to your faith .  
We are more than numbers, more than monster's flesh –  
souls and humans and tongues –  
singing tongues like unfinished prayer:_

_the sweet incense for saints and sinners  
alike. And when they reach courts of heavenly  
judgment, I call on You to defend me –  
purge me  
and make me clean – pull down the scales which darken my eyes –  
and let me wait in the deep of this sanctuary,  
in Your presence;  
let me wait, till the meet inherit the earth.  
Let me wait, till the meek inherit the earth._

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(Written: 29.04.2008; Edited: 03.06.2010)

_END_


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